Tuesday, June 30, 2015

UPTON SINCLAIR - THE DESERT YEARS

Upton Sinclair was one of our most important authors. He wrote “The Jungle” in 1906 about the meat packing industry. Teddy Roosevelt was so moved by the book, he ordered an investigation of the meat industry. The findings provided the momentum to start the FDA. Sinclair used the profits from the book to fund other socialistic goals. He later wrote the Pulitzer Prize winning novel “Dragon’s Teeth.” Sinclair distrusted public attention. He vacillated during his career between being in the spotlight (such as when he ran for governor of California) and periods of reclusiveness. Perhaps it is no surprise that in his later years, starting in 1953, he choose the obscure wind swept desert town of Buckeye, AZ to live in. Here, far away from the public who knew him, he composed his autobiography “My Lifetime in Letters.” His home was a small desert dwelling surrounded by a cream colored wall that still ironically stands today at 7th and Roosevelt Street. Upton Sinclair understood the potential of art and perils of art fame, per his quotes: “What art offers is space – a certain breathing room for the spirit.” “Art is like baby shoes. When you coat them with gold, they can no longer be worn.”


David Young

                         John Updike's Home in Buckeye, AZ

MONSOON DREAMS

The winds have turned, now coming from the South. Bringing the moisture from the Gulf to our desert heat, massaging your soul and being. Naps become longer and dreams more vivid now nourished by thunder showers. A sweet smell of sagebrush is in the air. The brown mountains now green. You take longer breaths, stretch your mind to thoughts of new adventures. Between storms there is a special quiet. A time for each other, for love and wandering in this special place.


David Young

Sunday, June 28, 2015

A TRIBUTE TO LEWIS BALTZ

Gerhard Richter once said "Now there are no priests or philosophers left, Artists are the most important people in the world."  Are artists our only interpreters of the world we now live in? Certainly trying to make sense out of it at times is difficult. Lewis Baltz who died late last year was a photographer who attempted to interpret life through his work. He tried to make sense out of the mass  suburbia which has become America. His photographs helped us understand how we can relate to this new world and what it means. One of the founders of Topographic Photography, his work will be missed. I present the photograph below as an ode and tribute to his work.
                            City Walker                                           young '14


Tuesday, June 23, 2015

THE VANISHING OF JAMES KIDD IN MIAMI ARIZONA

James Kidd traveled out west from New York in the early 1920’s, ending up in the remote mining town of Miami, AZ. He never had a drivers license, was never fingerprinted, never married and vanished without a trace except for the $500,000 he left deposited in banks and a will that offered it to anyone who could prove a human had a soul. 

A road trip beckoned me, this time Cowboy and Indian Route 70 starting just East of Miami, in Globe, AZ. I left early, in the darkness of predawn to avoid the Phoenix rush hour. You never know just where daybreak’s first burst of sun will catch you. This time it was on the outskirts of Miami. Traffic was stopped in both directions. A huge iron piece of some long forgotten mining machine emerged from the side road on a flatbed truck. It passed by and traffic began to move again. 

Route 70  still miles off and I was in a hurry. But the site of sun hitting a scenic church drew me in. I turned off the road to take a photo. A quiet deserted town stood before me, abandoned buildings, empty streets and broken windows. I wondered what had happen here. 

As I walked the streets with my camera, a feeling surrounded me of a place that had served it purpose and just wanted to be left alone. It wanted to vanish just like James Kidd. There were a few antique shops but mostly just the worn buildings, old trucks, their colors drawn and hued by the harsh desert sun. The light wind teased torn curtains in some of the windowless buildings, mines and rusted equipment on the surrounding yellow sage brush hills presided over the town. 

Copper ruled here, its color still in the streets. Globe, AZ was a silver town, but it played out. Miners moved to and started Miami. Cleve Van Dyke pioneered the founding of Miami in 1909. He sought to become rich with his land holdings but never did, nor anyone else who lived there except James Kidd. A workers town where 2,000 once lived, earning $5 a day deep  in the dark underground mining the copper for companies who did become rich but lived far away. They toiled in this isolated town buying goods from the company store and living in their houses. The miners revolted and struck in 1917 against the carried off riches. They wanted a part but only gained small concessions in the starved resource years of World War One. Their hard lives felt in all that is left here.

It is said that James Kidd worked in the copper mines until illness forced him to quit. A friend helped him pack up and drove him to the superstitious mountains, were he prospected for the rest of his life. His body and claims have never been found. His vanishing went unnoticed for years because he knew few people. The ones that did described him as a recluse dedicated to spiritualism. When he was finally declared dead in 1956. The E. F. Hutton Company produced his will and the details on his large estate. Many years of court battles ensued between various organizations that said they were best to pursue his spiritualist research and identify the human sole. The Barrow Neurological Society in Phoenix finally won the money. Still the search goes on for his source of money and his soul. 

In reality, James Kidd did not have to look beyond Miami to find the soul of man. It is all around you here forged by the human story of so many played out with hard work, raising a family and just living what we call life.

David Young









Source Material and Additional Reading:

“James Kidd is Missing” by Tom Kollenborn 
“The Great Soul” by John Fuller
“Western Mining History”  www.westernmininghistory.com
“Miami, Arizona” - Wikipedia
“The History of Miami, AZ” by Wilma Gray

“On Strike” by Daphne Overstreet

Thursday, June 18, 2015

SUMMATIONS

We look for the right numbers that will lead to summations to our life’s endeavors. As Aristotle said though, “The whole is more than the sum of the parts.” Life is more like a quilt or picture, not a summation. We plan how to get from A to B. Only to have those plans change when we get on the road. We read more into letters than there is. We hold our plans up to the universe and become overwhelmed with the complexity of all that is and has come before. We carefully measure things only to find where we went wrong after a disaster. We place great faith in final formulas. Still the summations we draw pull us ahead to new horizons. Horizons that will change the careful numbers that we thought were the whole of our lives.


David Young